Aboard The Hogwarts Express
by TheNextFolchart
Summary: The Trolley Lady doesn't really mind living on the train.


**Aboard The Hogwarts Express**

* * *

You don't really mind living on the train.

Your father is the conductor and your mother pushes the candy trolley and you watch the world whip past you and think about how lucky you are to be able to go anywhere in the world - as long as there are tracks. You spend your days with your face pressed against the window, watching the scenery fly by and trying to choose which house you're going to buy when you're rich and grown-up.

There's a cottage you pass every morning on the daily commute that's caught your eye, and you wonder who lives there, and whether he's friendly, and whether he'd like to let you move in someday.

But for now you watch from the window and enjoy your absolute, glorious freedom.

At night you curl up in the compartment in the back with your parents, and you pretend to be asleep while Mummy cries and Daddy promises that someday you will not be so homeless.

* * *

The first passenger you ever talk to in your life is a boy called Septimus Weasley, who is crying.

"Can I come in?" you ask, knocking gently on the compartment door - and you wouldn't ordinarily invade someone else's compartment, but it's September 1st, which means every compartment is jammed with Hogwarts students and you have no choice but to intrude.

(Two more years until you're one of them, and then you can finally get off this train.)

The crying boy wipes his nose on his sleeve and nods. "Septimus," he says by way of introduction.

"I'm Randie," you say.

"Are you a first-year, too?"

You shake your head. "Not yet. I just ride the train."

You don't tell him that you've been riding this train forever - don't mention that you've never set foot on solid ground, never done anything but ride the tracks back and forth, back and forth, and that you have the houses outside memorized.

"Why are you crying?"

He shrugs. "Homesick already."

(You can't empathize - hard to know what homesickness feels like when you've never been away from home.)

"Anything off the trolley - Randie?"

You smile up at your mother with that gap-toothed grin that everyone calls charming. "This is Septimus, Mummy," you say, and your orange-haired friend attempts a watery smile. "He's going to Hogwarts."

"They're all going to Hogwarts," Mum says, and there's a hint of bitterness in her voice, because Mummy never did get her letter, did she.

"Do you want any candy?" you ask Septimus, but he shakes his head and mumbles something about not having enough money.

"You can just have one," you offer. "I take them all the time."

"Randie," your mother warns, and Septimus declines the offer anyway.

(Later on, when Mummy's finished her rounds, you sneak a Chocolate Frog off the cart and bring it to him anyway.)

* * *

Septimus takes eleven more rides before you're finally old enough to be a Hogwarts student yourself - and the two of you have it all planned out, don't you, from the way you're going to be in Gryffindor to the way he's going to help you practice Charms to that cottage you're going to buy together someday when you're both rich and grown-up.

It all shatters when your letter doesn't come.

"Do you think the owl got lost?" you ask as the sun goes down on your eleventh birthday. "Do you think it couldn't find us because we live on the train?"

Your mother strokes your hair, but she doesn't answer.

When September 1st rolls around, you hide at the back of the train and don't come out until every last student has gotten off in Hogsmeade.

You don't sit in a real compartment again until you're sure Septimus has graduated.

* * *

Twenty years go by before you meet another Weasley, and it's almost long enough for you to forget.

Your mother drives the train now - Dad's not around anymore, he got off at the station in Hogsmeade and never got back on - and you push the candy trolley, and you don't even bother to look out the window at the houses anymore, because you're all grown up and you've realized that you're never going to be rich.

(And anyway, you don't want a cottage anymore, do you - it's a castle you wish you could have.)

"Anything off the trolley, dear?" you ask absently as you push your cart down the aisle.

"Haven't got enough money," an orange-haired boy says glumly, and you do a double-take.

"Septimus?" It's out of your mouth before you can stop it.

The boy squints up at you. "No," he says. "That's my Dad."

"Oh." You shake your head. "Sorry. You look like him."

"I'm Arthur," he says.

"Randie," you say. "Pleasure to meet you. D'you like Chocolate Frogs?"

He nods. "But I haven't any money."

You pull out a Chocolate Frog and hand it to him anyway. "On me," you say.

"Wow." Arthur's eyes are wide, and you notice they're the same color as Septimus'. "Thanks!

"You write your dad," you tell him, "and say that Randie says hello."

(The next time you see Arthur is on the train home at Christmas, and when you ask about that letter, he says his father wrote back that he doesn't know any Randie.)

* * *

You find it years and years after that - it's yellowed and crumpled and wedged down at the bottom of the box where your mother used to keep the valuables, and it's got your name on it.

A sense of dread builds in you as you open the aged envelope and pull out the letter inside.

_Dear Randie M. Barton,_

_We are pleased to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

You don't make it past the first line before you're storming up to the front of the train.

"What is this?" you ask your mother, shoving the letter in front of her.

She looks at it. Swallows. Looks at you.

"Is this my _Hogwarts letter_?"

"You were never supposed to see that," she whispers.

Your fist tightens around the letter. "You hid my letter from me?"

"We could never have afforded the books - "

"I could have gone to Hogwarts," you whisper. "I could have - Septimus and I could have - it's _ruined_."

Your mother tries to take the letter out of your hands, but you hold on tight and run back down the aisle to your compartment in the back.

You cry yourself to sleep and dream of an orange-haired boy that could be Septimus or Arthur (you can't be sure) getting off the train with his hand wrapped tightly around yours.

* * *

"Anything off the trolley, dear?" you say to the orange-haired boy who isn't Septimus or Arthur or Bill or Charlie or Percy or Fred or George - because you've met them all, one after another, and this one is just a new boy in a long line of reminders. Each train ride brings a new Weasley who barely gives you the time of day, and you can't help wondering what would have happened if you'd gotten to go to Hogwarts.

(Maybe you and Septimus would have been best friends. Maybe you would have loved him, married him. Maybe this new Weasley would have been your grandson, instead of a stranger with not enough money for a Chocolate Frog.)

"We'll take the lot," the black-haired boy beside the Weasley says, and you hand over your cart and slump to the compartment in the back.

(Maybe someday you'll get off this train.)

* * *

The years fly by just as quickly as the world outside, and suddenly that youngest Weasley boy is the only one left.

He's on the train coming home for Christmas when you finally find out his name.

"Ron," a girl's voice laughs. "Ron, stop it!"

You watch him through the glass door of the compartment. You can't help it.

He's kissing a girl under the mistletoe you've hung inside every compartment. "Won-Won," the girl whines as he pulls away, and the orange-haired boy sighs and leans in for another kiss.

"Anything off the trolley?" you ask, rapping gently on the door.

"Yeah," Ron says, and he looks relieved as he stands up and moves toward you. "A Chocolate Frog, please," he says as he shoves a hand into his pocket to fish out a coin.

"Oh, look, Won-Won," the girl screeches. "You and the trolley lady are under the mistletoe."

"What?" Ron looks up and steps back quickly. "No, we weren't."

"One Sickle," you say softly.

"Kiss!" the girl shrieks. "You have to, Won-Won. Kiss her!"

Ron sighs and looks at you apologetically. "Sorry," he says, rolling his eyes, and he bends down and brushes his lips against your forehead.

It's the first kiss you've ever had, and probably the only kiss you're ever going to get.

(Part of you thinks it's enough.)

(Part of you thinks it could _never be enough_.)

"Here," you say, pressing the Chocolate Frog into his hand. "Don't worry about the Sickle. Happy Christmas."

"Thanks," Ron says with a smile. "Happy Christmas."

As you roll your cart away, you hear the girl saying, "I think she had a crush on you, Won-Won. I'd better look out."

"She could be my grandmother," Ron says. "You have nothing to worry about. Honestly, Lavender, shut up."

You know they're making fun of you, but you can't help but smile very slightly as you make your way to the compartment in the back and unwrap a Chocolate Frog of your own.

(You're never getting off this train, are you.)

* * *

_[Pirate Ship Battles - Trolley Lady/Ron Weasley - Under The Mistletoe]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Cinderella - write about someone who lives a hard life]_

_[Greek Mythology Mega Prompt Challenge: Circe - write about loneliness]_

_[The Kisses Competition: Forehead Kiss]_


End file.
